


I Feel Like Being Close To You

by IsobelSionisFalcone



Series: Danse Speech Prompts [2]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 10:55:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12703578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsobelSionisFalcone/pseuds/IsobelSionisFalcone
Summary: Danse and Nora need to find shelter before his suit rusts. A nearby train carriage is their only option.Speech Prompt; "Decorum prohibits it, but I feel like being close to you right now."





	I Feel Like Being Close To You

Miserable. He's miserable. They both are. Soaked to the bone, hungry and tired, neither are in the mood for light conversation. It's been quite a while since Nora's last wise crack. That's how Danse knows the driving rain is souring her mood, making her scowl at the steel tracks and dirt beneath her feet. Not only can he feel his armour stiffening up with rust, but he can hear it, too, creaking and clicking as the water seeps into the joints. Nora's uniform is also creaking, something that would have made him laugh were he not so worried about the possibility of having to drag a full suit of X-01 back to Sanctuary.

They need shelter. Now.

The landscape through which they trudge is about as bare as the glowing sea. Burned trees jut out of the ground next to the old railway line, there are no settlements or bunkers in sight and the Boston ruins are just visible in the distance across the river. The only place where they might be able to find respite is an old train carriage just ahead, red paint peeling and one side door pulled open. As long as they can keep dry inside, the look of the thing matters little.

The pair have developed a wordless understanding of each other for moments such as these. Neither feel much like talking, but by pressing onwards, they know they're both thinking the same thing.

Danse steps into the carriage first, stepping out of his power armour at the far end whilst Nora slides the door shut with some difficulty. There are a few crates and a lantern left behind by the previous occupants, so whilst she busies herself lighting it and sitting on the wooden boxes to dry her hair, Danse pulls their bed rolls out of his pack. She yanks a towel out of hers and he's positive he can hear her grumbling. She rubs her hair aggressively and it's with a grimace the former Paladin remembers she hates getting her hair wet.

Eventually, he can watch her no longer and he crosses to the other end of the carriage grasps hold of her hands. Nora throws him a warning glare from under the edge of the towel, but he isn't about to back down from his Yui Gui of a lover. It requires a little tact and a lot of persistence before she'll see that he's trying to help.

Danse kneels in front of her as she relents, her hands dropping to her sides as he gently strokes the material over her scalp. He rubs the moisture away to the best of his ability, using soothing, massaging movements and eventually, she sighs and touches his knee to show her gratitude.

A moment later, she takes the towel from him and returns the favour, until he realises that Nora is deliberately rubbing his hair the wrong way. When she pulls back, she bursts into fits of giggles as Danse's thick, black hair looks like it's full of static. She kisses him, perhaps in thanks, more likely as an apology, but he doesn't let her go when she stops. With their foreheads and noses touching, he notices her pupils are dilated, a sea of black surrounded by a ring of green.

"Decorum prohibits it, but I feel like being close to you right now," he says, his voice barely a baritone whisper.

Nora doesn't hesitate to seal their lips once more, cupping his cheeks and feeling the stubble scratch against her palms. She'll remind him to shave, later, but all she wants now is Danse. She wants to taste him, touch him, love him and show him that it doesn't matter what he is. She's never felt so strongly about anyone else in her entire life.

Danse's tongue parts her lips and Nora allows him to dominate. He pulls her onto his lap and stands, never breaking the kiss as he carries her to where he's laid out their bed rolls. They're too tired, too impatient for foreplay, but he's got her all worked up, now. He knows it, so he sits on their rolls and rests his weight on one, muscular arm, knees raised to give himself leverage.

This position is just right for Nora to rub her clit against his growing hardness and she begins almost immediately, grinding her hips hard against him. Danse groans and tangles his free hand in her damp hair, unzipping her uniform so he can trail kisses and bites down her neck. She moans, already panting and frees her arms from the suit before pulling down the zip on the crotch of Danse's road leathers. He'd taken to wearing them not long after leaving the listening post and they look good on him.

Way too good.

Nora has to stand to yank off her boots and peel the rest of her uniform down her legs. She's back ontop of Danse before he can get further than taking off his jacket. She pulls the waistband of his boxers down, exposing his thick, hard cock. God, she'll never get used to how big he is, but they're not playing around. They're both needy, desperate for each other and so Danse slips his fingers into her knickers and drags them along her slit, dipping them into her opening and he feels almost no resistance. She's wet and ready for him, but he always likes to allow her a little preparation, first.

The Sentinel whines, clutching his shoulders as he fingers her gently. Her head is thrown back as her hips rock and Danse thinks how beautiful she looks like this, cheeks and chest dusted red and lips parted. A few tentative thrusts later, he withdraws his fingers and pushes her knickers to the side. Nora sinks onto his aching member in one smooth movement and, when their hips meet, Danse moans against her neck, sending liquid heat to her core.

"Oh, Danse..." she purrs, pausing for only a moment to ensure she can accommodate him without pain.

Danse isn't normally vocal during sex, but he feels that, with the rain bouncing against the carriage and Nora beginning to bounce on his cock, the time is somehow right to scratch the surface of his hidden desire. "When... When we went to the Museum of Witchcraft..." he says breathlessly, "and I told you to stay close - God! - that was the first time I thought about you like this... Ah..."

"R-really?" Nora asks as she feels her gut warming and tightening. "I... I think that was when I really fell in love with you. There was... Just something about the way you said it..." she pants. "'Stay close'. It made me feel safe. Like you cared."

He bucks up into her rhythmically, chasing his end as she tightens around him. "I love you, Nora," he says. "God, you can be stubborn and evasive as hell, but I love you so much."

Nora's breathing comes out ragged as Danse grunts against her neck. She curses and praises, nails digging into his shirt and the former Paladin sucks a dark bruise over her pulse. She mewls at that, her walls fluttering around him as she begins to shake and twitch. Dropping a hand to her waist, Danse uses his thumb to rub her clit furiously and her moans become high-pitched wails as she clutches at locks of his dark hair.

"Danse! Danse, please!" she whines, losing her rhythm as she grinds down onto his cock that fills her so deliciously deeply. "Agh! So close! Please!"

He uses his grip on her waist to control her movements, bucking up harder, faster, still thumbing her clit until her back arches and she gives a keening cry. He fucks her through her orgasm and yells of 'fuck! Oh, fuck, Danse!', balls lifting as he closes his eyes spills his seed into her. His body tenses for a long moment as she collapses against his damp chest and, after his release tapers off, he sighes blissfully and falls back against their bed rolls.

Nora wriggles upwards lazily, just enough so that his softening member slips free. "Love you..." she mutters, stilling over him and letting sleep envelop her weary body. Danse curls a heavy arm around her back and relaxes into the soft material beneath him. He's so tired that he can't muster up enough energy to remove his soggy clothes. He lies there, drifting off without a care in the world. Nora is everything. He has her lying on top of him. What more could he want?

Just then, in that rusted railcar, Danse forgets about the world outside. He doesn't need it. He has Nora. He doesn't want anything else.


End file.
